


Overruling the Shadows

by Faiseuse_d_Histoires



Series: Looking for Spring [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Jon Snow finally does something, Warging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24197005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faiseuse_d_Histoires/pseuds/Faiseuse_d_Histoires
Summary: Second prologue of A Dance of Shadows, set after S8. Can be also read as a standalone. After murdering two wildlings, Jon Snow has to decide his place in the world around him, while trying to control his newfound powers. Will he succeed, or will he lose himself in it?
Relationships: mentioned Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen - Relationship
Series: Looking for Spring [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745698
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Overruling the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drakhus67820](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakhus67820/gifts).



> I dedicate this work to @drakhus67820 for his birthday (though it's a little late), who often enough asked me what I intended to do with Jon.  
> The characters, nor the world of Ice and Fire don't belong to me.  
> Good reading!

**_Come back, Jon, come back. You’ll get lost if you go on._ **

_He felt the lingering taste of blood on his tongue. The faces of his victims lay still in his mind. That woman who came to him for lust and then wrath when he refused her, and her man who only wanted an excuse to fight him…_

_Why would he go back? Nothing was waiting for him there. Only regrets and despair. He would die soon, he knew that._

_Daenerys… Where was she? In which world had she been sent?_

_“Yes, loose yourself, Jon… You don’t have anything left…” He heard._

_The voice was familiar. A male, monotone voice. Where had he heard it last?_

**_Jon… Go back…_ **

_But he saw her light and he tried to follow it._

_“Dany,” He whispered. “Daenerys. Come back! Come back!”_

_She was laughing at him, a sweet smile on her face as she ran away, out of reach. He ran after her, fearing the shadows might turn off her flame._

_“Don’t you remember, Jon?” She said. “Don’t you remember?”_

_Then, just as suddenly, she was in his arms, naked, her intoxicating scent of spiceflower and cinnamon invading his senses. Her lips were opened wide for him, and her purple eyes glowing at him with love and hope. He embraced her eagerly, wanted to feel each inch of her skin on his. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids and nose, and that stubborn little chin. He tasted the skin on her neck and collarbones, sweet and spicy, and so addictive on his mouth. She sighed softly through his touches and kisses, and he felt the blood running down below._

**_Come back…_ **

_She took his hand in hers and placed it on her chest._

_“You have killed us,” She whispered. Her eyes were wet with tears and he could almost see her heart breaking as she looked at him, and her upper lip tremble a little from the emotion._

_He felt a thick, velvety liquid slip between his fingers. He raised his head, numbed by the fear tearing him inside._

_“No. No. NOOO!”_

_She fell back, letting go of her grip on him. He tried to catch her, but the shadows were already on her. In her eyes, he saw the last remnant of light dying…_

_“We must find our way back …” He cried towards her. "We must find it..."_

_But the shadows had already taken her away._

“Jon!!”

Chaos. Orders. Fires. Cries. And the shadow of a dragon over the busting city of King’s Landing.

‘See what you’ve lost, Aegon Targaryen. See what is happening when you’re gone,’ He heard that infuriating, familiar voice in his head.

“Let me go!!”

‘You will loose yourself… You are already lost…’

He gasped, opening his eyes finally, fully aware of his surroundings.

The darkness around him made him realize he was in a cave. Yet, he felt Ghost’s presence beside him, his snout soothingly pushing on his hand, and that of Tormund, who was trying to light up a fire.

“You were gone again, Jon,” His friend said when finally a flame appeared.

“Why have I blood on my hands again?” He noticed with horror. “Have I…”

“No. Just a few ravens.” Tormund Giantsbane sighed as Jon let out a relieved breath. “I’ve done everything to keep you alive, crow. You damn owe me. Some of the ice-river clans suggested to roast you. I believe some cave-dwellers wouldn’t have said no to such food. But most of them are afraid they’d catch your madness. I’m also afraid I’d catch it. Not to mention I doubt you’d be that tasty…”

Madness. The word stang his heart and he wondered at it. 

“What is madness, Tormund? What is wisdom? How to discern what is good, what is right, to what is wrong. Daenerys, mad? If so, I have it in my blood too," He stopped a little, before continuing, his mind stuck on the last fragments of his dream. He raised, paced as he talked. “The Daenerys who I saw crying her friend’s death? The Daenerys who asked me to stay with her? My Dany, my brave Dany, who once told me she wanted a home with a red door and a lemon tree? Dany…”

Jon’s eyes were still on the tiny drops of blood glinting in his hands. So thick, so sticky.

“If it’s true that souls that are not in peace haunt the one who murdered them, why doesn’t she haunt me?”

“Maybe I should have let you die then…” Tormund mumbled. “Would have saved me the trouble.”

“Seven Hells, Dany! I’m tainted too! Why won’t you haunt me?” He cried suddenly “Quarrelsome woman, you’ve never done what is expected of you….”

He fell on his knees, the weight of what happened tearing him down, crushing him. 

“Oh Dany… Dany…”

What would she do? What would she want?

What did _he_ want?

The cries. The fire. The shadow? What was it?

“I need to go again.” He muttered. “I need… I need to be somewhere. Anywhere. If it’s true, I need to do something… Or I need someone who will act on my stead. Move things how I want it to be…”

“How you want it to be?”

His eyes widened, looking once again at his hands.

“These powers… What can I do with them… Where are my limits?”

“Jon…”

The young man jumped at his name, surprised. He felt the worry coming from Tormund Giantsbane, and suddenly he knew how Daenerys felt when her advisors began to turn on her.

He had to do something. He had to fight. But for what? For who?

“I need you to tell me something…” Jon suddenly asked. “When you left Winterfell… What was the real reason?”

Tormund blinked a little at this, then his eyes hardened.

“You know we weren’t welcomed. Your people needed us when the dead came, but just like your little queen’s armies, it had always been more a forced thing than anything. Your sister clearly let it show.”

“Arya?”

“That’s the red-haired one?”

“Sansa…” He cursed. “Damn it! Have I been blind for so long?!”

“Let’s say you had other interests…” He said with a connivant smile, before exclaiming with surprise. “Wait… You had two sisters?”

Jon could have laughed if the matter did not affect him so deeply.

“You’ve seen Arya. She’s the one who killed the Night King…”

“Ah…” A hint of recognition came at his eyes. “Did not see her that much, that one. Talked a little, maybe engaged in a few brawls, so that makes us close as friends, right? She seemed fierce enough. I wouldn't mind if she was one of my daughters. Do you think she'd mind if I called her my little wolf if I saw her again? These skills of hers... Might be useful. By the way... Why wasn’t she at the feast?”

He did not answer it. The memories were still too tainted. He couldn’t change them.

But he could change what was happening.

“Let’s settle all of this…”

He raised up and left the cave. Tormund followed him, he heard, but he took no notice of it.

Heads turned towards him. Some wary. Most hostile.

He saw the crowd gathering around him, leaving him no haven but the cave behind him.

“I’lll fight…” He snarled. “I’ll fight anyone of you!”

“No,” One of them stepped out of the group, a vicious smile on his face. “Only me is enough.”

Jon glared at the man, taking every detail of him. He had the appearance of a young man, but still the eyes were wrong. They were ones of a battle-weary man, cruel and cunning.

“You remember me, crow? I am Varamyr Sixskins reborn. I still want that little direwolf of yours…”

Ghost growled threateningly.

“Oh, don’t act so disgusted, little wolf. Soon you’ll be mine. You’ll join my two wolves, my bear and my shadowcat…”

Said animals appeared at his side, growling as they were named.

Finally, he looked at Jon, a smirk on his face.

“Come on crow. Attack me.”

He was taunting him, he could see that. And the rage he felt inside did not help.

He let out Longclaw from its sheath. Its blade rang pleasantly in his ears, like the beginning of a song.

They circled each other, judging the other from a distance. It was Varamyr who reacted first, charging with his spear in hand.

It was a battle of weapons and minds. The first whistled as they fell down after another dodge, the seconds were screaming at each other, taunting, trying to take dominance in the body of the other.

“I’m all around you, little bastard. I am a voice in your head that fights you until you break,”

“Though… That’s quite a surprise…,” He finally said after another one of his vicious hit that brought him a little too close for comfort. "I’m not the only one who tries to rule your soul out of that pretty body of yours. Isn’t he the one who took One Eye from me?”

‘He’s good… But not enough.’

“Listen, you little cripple…” Varamyr grumbled.

Jon made use of his distraction to hit him in the face, before kicking him. The man let out a strangled cry, before unlashing his shadowcat on him. Jon struggled against it, the weight putting him down as he felt the jaw opening for his head. He screamed, his anger forcing itself on it. It felt like kicking a closed door, and once it opened storming through the inside.

The animal squeaked, then retreated.

Ghost was fighting the other wolves, and he lent him his strength for a while as he returned to Varamyr, who struggled.

He heard the grunt of the bear, charging him. He jumped on its collarbone and plunged his sword through it. It fell down on the snow, a dead mass, without a sound.

He saw Varamyr’s eyes turning completely white, and then he guessed he was gathering his forces for another attack on his mind. Or maybe Ghost, he realized with terror.

He needed to prevent it from happening.

“There’s an original reason for some rituals to be made…” He remembered suddenly Old Nan’s voice telling him. He remembered the cracking of the wood burning, and the impatient tapping of Robb’s fingers on the stone. Winterfell, once so full, so vibrant… “Once blood is spilled between the two being and mixed, their souls bound as one. Nothing can truly separate them, especially if it’s witnessed by the Gods. It’s a bond of life and death.”

He had to try.

“Ghost! At me!”

The direwolf sent one of his adversaries flying by catching its neck. The other grunted, jumped, but he soon joined its companion.

Then Ghost joined Jon and sat at his feet.

“Blood for blood, Ghost.”

The wolf nodded and bit his own paw. Blood spilled from it as Jon crouched down and put his own hand on it. He felt the lives vibrating around them, between them. His eyes hurt, and he felt like his soul was tearing in two. Ghost growled, and he felt their souls mixing painfully.

“You can’t have him. And you can’t have me.”

“Oh, you think?” Varamyr taunted. “I’ll have the both of you. Your little tricks don’t work. You’re a youngling in this.”

‘Let it go. You’re nothing anymore. Not Aegon Targaryen. Not even Jon Snow…’

That’s when he realized who the voice was. Anger and betrayal boiled in him. He felt its burn behind his eyes, and on these hands that carried his sword.

“Enough!” He raged.

Suddenly he felt aware of every detail. His mind perceived every presence around him, either invisible of not. He saw his true enemy, looking at him with painfully familiar blue eyes. It seemed that every door was opened, and he was free to enter them.

He felt larger than life, larger than the world around him. Oh, he could crack their skulls just by the force of his mind, he saw that. He could make them fear. Make them scream in agony. He could be the monster in their head and leave them cowering like children.

‘See, you’re loosing yourself…’

“How… That’s unnatural!” came the cries of Varamyr.

He looked at the skinchanger, calm and cold. The door of his mind was opened, and he sent a storm in there.

The man knelt, his mouth agape and his eyes almost going out of his orbits.

The shadowcat fell down with a mew. The two wolves cried, while Ghost silently watched him, a king in the snow accepting their obedience.

With a swing of the sword, Jon cut his links to the past, as well as the body of Varamyr Sixskins. Now Varamyr Bloodyskin.

He turned towards the other presence, but it was gone.

He looked a long time at the sword that once meant so much for him. It meant the approval of Jeor Mormont. It meant the hopes of a young boy trying to be better than he thought he was.

He was no little boy anymore. He threw the sword away and watched it falling pathetically on the snow.

Ghost waited, alert. The other two wolves raised their heads and began to show their teeth. The shadowcat crouched a little, as if prepared to pounce, as the bear growled menacingly.

“Anyone else?” He screamed at the crowd, the fire burning high in him.

Nobody answered. Nobody dared to move. Except Tormund who tried to reach him.

“Jon…”

He glared at him, exhausted. The blood was still slipping through his fingers.

“Three days, Tormund. Give me three, damn days.”

And with that, he turned away and returned to the cave.

__________________________________________________________________________________

For three days he stayed in the cave, and no one saw him. And yet, some said they could hear his orders from far away. Whispers in the wind, firm and strong, telling them to prepare to fight, motivating them to carve their own destiny. It seemed to know every one of their wishes, every one of their feelings.

Some tried to see what was happening in this cave. But they were soon running away from it, terror distorting their faces.

And then one day, Tormund heard it. His voice in his head, telling him to raise and meet him.

And he did. But he wasn’t the only one. One by one, they were coming, a awed expression on their face so blatant he thought they would shit themselves.

“Look! Look! It’s him!”

“The Wolf God!”

“Reborn from the dead!”

“The King-beyond-the-wall!”

“The Whisperer!”

Jon looked at them carefully, and all felt his gaze on their face, contemplative and deep. Some gasped. Other shook. Some raised their head higher, defiant.

One woman came before him. She was Briar, the skinchanger. Her shadowcat followed her steps as she called the newcomer.

“Here are your people, Jon Snow. Some are already styling themselves the Wolf Tribe for you. Lead the way.”

“Are you?”

Jon turned towards the crowd, his expression severe and firm. With his head raised up and his squared shoulders

“You are all free men and women. I cannot talk for all of you. But it is time for us all to take our place in the world. And it is not here, folk. We’ve been stuck in habits and codes that separated us to others. They have rejected us, yet. I was born with them, and still here I am, at your side. For you are my true people. You are my family. In our veins, there is the same blood. You call me king, then let me fight by your side. Let’s show them their mistakes and let them despair of it. For this land is for all of us, and as free men and free women we should not abide by rules that leave us stuck in one place.”

“Briar!” He called, looking at the woman and her shadowcat. “Gather the other skinchangers. We will need to meet.”

The woman nodded, then went away. The crowd scattered, as if moved by an invisible force that was telling them to go away.

“That’s quite the speech,” Tormund commented. "One might think you were preparing a war.”

“From what I’ve seen, when we settled down, the ice-rivers clans were about to fight the Thenns. They need a purpose. I want to give them one.”

“I’ve told you they would call you a god, one day, little crow. Have you found what you’ve been looking for?”

“Not really. It’s hard to be heard when there’s too many voices in one person.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jon laughed, and for the first time in ages, it seemed to be genuine.

“I hope you don’t. It’s not a very pleasant experience.”

He taped on his shoulder amicably, then went on his way to the other skinchangers.

Tormund saw them gathering around a big fire, but their whispers did not reach him. So he went on and built his own fire near the cave. He would catch him later, he thought, as he watched Jon raising as he engaged in another one of his speeches.

When it was done, some nodded. Some seemed perplexed. But Jon took no care for them. He saluted them and returned towards the cave.

Tormund’s presence did not seem to surprise him. He sat next to him near the fire.

“Tormund. You’ve been waiting.”

“You knew I would, king crow,” Tormund answered. Then, after some time: “What do you intend to do?”

The former Lord Commander of the Night Watch and King in the North stared at him with piercing eyes, and for once, Tormund Giantsbane was startled by it. These eyes were not so grey anymore. One of them was turning darker and darker, so much that through some lights it seemed crimson. And yet he did not look away. He felt respect growing on him, the same one he had when he saw him trying to lead the people beyond the wall, and then fighting alongside them.

That man was back, he realized.

Jon Snow told him calmly, revealing every one of his plans. Little bits by little bits, Tormund’s eyes widened, then glinted in the dark with wonder.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were turning mad… But yet… It might actually work. Do you realize that if you do that, you might actually end up with more than a crown?”

“Might is a good word. I don’t control my powers enough for the moment. Sometimes it’s overwhelming and strong. Other times it’s fickle and defiant. But something is happening now. I feel somebody looking for me. It chills me to the bones, just how it’s trying to invade everything that I am, and everything that I ever was. And there’s all these disappearances that I’ve heard. Surely, it might mean something. The last time I felt this cold is when I met the Night King for the first time… And yet, here it is, when it shouldn’t be. Chaos is still happening in Westeros.”

“So that’s it now. You fight for the people, as ever.”

“No. I fight for myself. And I fight for Daenerys. For her dreams that I intend to come to life.”

‘What about yours?”

“What dreams can I have for myself?” He laughed bitterly. “I wanted to be lord of Winterfell once. I wanted to be Lord Commander. I wanted to prove to everyone that they were wrong about me.” He stopped, contemplative. “I cannot deny it now. I wanted to be king. But I also wanted to be Ned Stark and Ned Stark wouldn’t have wanted that. I wanted to be so many things. Now I just want make them regret. If it succeeds, I might be king, yes. I might even be good. But it will be for me, and Daenerys. She deserves to have her legacy salvaged, even by the likes of me. Not for people who told me they were on my side but betrayed me for their own gains.”

His gaze went deeper into the fire, wistfully.

“And when it’s all over… When that wheel she wanted to break is destroyed, then I’ll join her.”

“You’ve always been a joyful one. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“You’re the only one I trust for now. Whether in good or bad, you’ve never let me down. Can you be my guardian for this?”

“Me? The guardian to a God?” He roared with laughter. “First Giantsbane, then Godsguard. Now you’ll be making me a legend, my friend. I like that.”

Jon smiled. “I knew you would.”

A companionable silence came before them as they looked at the flames.

“Why can’t you ask another skinchanger in your group to do this?”

Jon shook his head. “No. I need to do this alone. The others know what I want them to do. Some may try to oppose it and will leave. It will need time before I have their complete support. We’ve already talked about it.”

“Oh, so that’s what all the howling and hoots were all about.”

Jon lightly chuckled, and for a while it was enough.

“What am I going to say, if someone from your family finds me and you’re gone?” Finally Tormund said. “I can’t go carrying around your body without people raising questions.”

“Tell them everyone has rejected me. That I’ve gone mad with grief. That life was unbearable without… her. That I am alone in the world. What all these terrible, terrible events made me learn is that, the less they think of me, the more I can be sure to succeed.”

“You wouldn’t trust your family?”

“Trusting hadn’t done me anything good, had it?” Jon tried to smile it off, but he couldn’t prevent the bitterness from boiling in his throat, slowly coming up to the point he felt he could throw up. “No. We got rid of the wrong mad Targaryen. I’m going to show them. I feel it. My wrath…”

“You’re changing, little crow. I’m not sure it’s for the best,” Tormund remarked. “Have you seen yourself, these days? One of your irises is turning red. Are you sure you’re not going to lose yourself?”

“One can never be sure.”

“Because you know, if I realize you’ve been gone for too long, I will make sure that body of yours die too, and by someone who cares. That’s what I promised Ygritte.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me of her. And I accept it.” Jon’s eyes darkened a little at this. “Though I don’t know who cares anymore.”

“You’ll never know, Jon. You’ll never know.”


End file.
